


Stressful Times

by madrastic



Series: From the Nowhere Archives [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Concentration Camps, Conditioning, Developing Relationship, Disabled Character, Dissociation, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Elves, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Fantasy, Flashbacks, Gay Sex, Guards, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Haircuts, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kings & Queens, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Lube, M/M, Magic, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning Cuddles, Muteness, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Re-Education, Royalty, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sex, Sex Toys, Sex as Therapy, Sign Language, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Touch-Starved, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, again only referenced, but it's only referenced, emotional flashbacks, magical lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrastic/pseuds/madrastic
Summary: If it were not for his guard, King Galengar would likely freeze to death, staring out of an open widow in the middle of winter until he was blissfully numb. He was tired. He was so, so tired of having to make decisions and solve problems and prevent wars. Why couldn't everything just stop for a moment, no more nobles, no more tithes, no more meetings. Gods and men, he just wanted to rest.[can be read as a standalone]
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: From the Nowhere Archives [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633051
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Galengar is trans, i'm a trans author, Hastion is not. Comments and kudos are appreciated!

“You might want to close that window, Sir.” Galengar flinched out of his reverie as Hastion’s words carried through the room.

Gods, he hadn’t even heard the door open. Half turning to look over his shoulder, Galengar buttoned up his jacket slightly more, out of habitual propriety. As his hands were freed, he signed at his guard. ‘The weather’s nice outside.’

“The weather is freezing outside, Sir.”

Clouds hung heavy in the late afternoon air, blocking out the light from the sun. It was so dark, like night had come early. The rain pounded hard against the window, cold enough to herald the beginnings of winter. In the dome of the sky, lightning flashed like a portent of things to come, a warning demanding to be listened to. The end of the world had arrived several decades too soon, that was what the weather declared.

‘I like it.’ His response was simple and easy.

Hastion sighed and crossed the chamber, leaning over Galengar and closing the window. “Yes, but the kingdom wouldn’t like the cold you would catch.”

In lieu of words, Galengar just lifted an eyebrow at him. Hands still on the window, Hastion did his best not to look scrutinized under his gaze. He was a good man, Hastion, a hard worker and agreeable. In his entire tenure as Galengar’s personal guard, he had never once argued, just kept up that easy smile. There were already enough rumors about compromised virtue, the nobles were convinced that guarding the Elven Whore came with a physical requirement. As if Galengar had the energy for that.

Hastion was talking, something about Galengar minding his own health for the good of the kingdom and all that. He had heard this spiel before enough times to tune out and nod when the pauses in conversation deemed it appropriate. If the Draconic families sent word back soon, then they would be able to start planning for adjusting the borders and negotiating tithes. If they didn’t… well. That would be another problem. Empty hands were spare hands. There was too much to rebuild and too little time to do it all.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.”

Doe eyes and innocent blinks were Galengar’s defense. ‘I must have forgotten my hearing aids. My apologies.’

“I am  _ not _ a noble, Sir, and I know that you aren’t deaf.” Hastion folded his arms against his chest. He was cute when he was cross. Cross, ha. He really was spending too much time around dragons. “May I ask what is on your mind?”

‘Nothing exciting. More tax plans. Fiddling with the border of the Draconic Autonomous Region so they stop trying to have quarrels with the Northwest Territories.’ He waved the thought aside. ‘Is something wrong? Was I sent for?’

The way Hastion’s dark charcoal eyes drifted to the wall was adorable. Galengar resisted the grin that threatened to spread across his face. As Hastion stuttered through an excuse of how he thought Galengar had been stressed as of late, Galengar subtly roved his eyes over his guard, checking for anything out of the ordinary. Times like this were anything but, and a leader that knew where the weapons were in a room was a leader that kept all his blood on the inside.

Hastion was certainly something to look at, Galengar couldn’t deny it. An elf with ash-brown skin, large, dark eyes, and dark brown hair that had been cropped short, most would write him off for not adhering to what magazines and nobles had said was beautiful. Not Galengar, oh no. Hastion was strong and reliable and did this cute little thing when he was thinking where the tip of his right ear jittered slightly, like it was shaking out the incorrect thoughts.

With a silent sigh, Galengar fully faced the room, sitting sidesaddle in his plush chair, running his fingers over the complex embroidery. Pigeons, or something. Meant to symbolize prosperity or whatever. It was a pain enough to remember manners, never mind the symbolism or iconography of the things that were stitched into fabric to make him feel pretty and fancy. The Elven Whore was nothing, if not needy, the nobles said, forgetting that Galengar wasn’t deaf.

‘I am stressed.’ He admitted. ‘We live in stressful times.’

“Would you like me to help with that, Sir?” Implications, implications. What did he even have to lose at this point? Everyone knew that Galengar’s dignity lay in some dirty gutter.

He let his temple lie on the headrest of the chair with a sigh, carvings in the wood digging into his scalp. Gods, he felt exhausted. ‘You don’t have to, Hastion.’ Galengar fingerspelled his name, trying to ignore how a brief flash of hurt darted across his eyes. It was better not to get too close.

He took a step forward, hands behind his back and posture just as perfect as the day it had been trained into him. “I would not consider it an obligation.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be an obligation to him. What an  _ honor _ to be called upon by a king. Galengar had Essren (damn that bitch) to thank for that, for how readily people bent to his every need. He hated it. More than anything, Galengar wanted an argument, someone to tell him ‘no’. Like that was happening. Yay.

“Please.” There was a twisted sort of emotion in Hastion’s eyes. Galengar hadn’t replied for too long.

‘Do whatever you’d like, Hastion, I won’t stop you.’ Might as well use his name-sign. It wasn’t like he was going to interpret anything Galengar said as potential rejection. Better to just get this over with. Another victory for the Elven Whore.

“Of course, my Lord.” As he moved to the back of Galengar’s chair, trying to anticipate his movements, Galengar put a hand on Hastion’s chest.

‘Galengar. My name is Galengar.’ He used the one-handed version, the one that Malaidor used, above his heart. It felt better than the one where his lapel pins would have been. He hadn’t used that one in a long time.

Hastion’s eyes fixed on his hand. Right. Elves don’t touch. Touch is for the ‘lesser races’ or whatever Essren had called it. That was just jabber, if Galengar could be frank inside his own head. If anything, Galengar was more a man of the Territories than an elf. Growing up in the foothills did that, made one forget about species and culture and focus on helping the community survive.

Hastion was still staring at the warm palm burning a hole through his uniform. Right, this had gone on for long enough. Galengar  _ did _ like him, he just needed to speak with one of the therapists tomorrow or overmorrow. The new ones from Upper Orikai were rather good, though people just saw that they were orcs and made assumptions. That might sort him out. Now, though, now he might as well let himself be taken care of, let himself forget about the day.

‘Why don’t you bend me over my desk and mess up my notes?’ His smile was all predator and seduction, and it had the desired effect as Hastion’s eyes widened.

Galengar rose from his chair, already regretting the amount of buttons on his jackets. The silken blue thing’s ivory buttons were undone, and it was draped over the back of his chair. A dark yellow doublet soon followed it, and Galengar truly could not bring himself to give a shit as to whether or not it got wrinkled. Hastion’s eyes devoured him as he moved, politely ignoring the swell of his chest as the loose chemise he had been wearing under everything was revealed. Galengar would kill himself before he wore stays again.

Hands turned him around, creeping under his shirt to rub gentle circles into his stomach. Hastion’s mouth was on his neck (Gods bless it that Galengar’s hair was still up in the complex tangle of braids and buns the hairdresser had thought appropriate. Maybe it was time to cut it), sensing his distraction. Soft lips against his pulse point brought him back as those hands traveled up, avoiding his breasts to rumple his shirt, tracing his collarbone.

“Have you considered eating more frequently?” Hastion mumbled into his skin, still feathering teasingly light kisses. “Sir.” He added as an afterthought.

‘I eat enough.’ The two of them watched his reflection in the dark glass of the window, Hastion for the words and Galengar taking in how unkempt he looked like this, body on full display, manhandled by his own guard. He flicked his eyes back down to his notes.

Hastion wasn’t going to let this go, evidently. “You forget that I stand for all your meals. One and a half a day is not enough, Sir.”

‘I’d call it two.’

“With all respect, a sandwich at teatime while you do paperwork doesn’t count, Sir.”

‘Are you here to shame me over my dining habits or are you here to make me drool onto important paperwork, I must ask?’

Hastion turned a pretty bright red in his reflection, and Galegar resisted the urge to laugh. Ducking his face away from the window wasn’t enough to hide his expression, apparently, and he was punished (or was it rewarded?) by a hand on his crotch, pulling him against Hastion’s hips. A hardness pressed into his ass, and Galengar bit his lip, trying to control the way his heartrate surged at the fingers ghosting over his folds

“Why don’t you let your hair down and bend over.” The order was murmured into Galegar’s ear, and it took everything in him to resist the expressive twitch that threatened to give him away. “Sir.” An afterthought.

His hands were tugging at the pins and stitching holding his hair in place before Hastion had finished his sentence. As his blond locks fell over his shoulder in waves, still filled with pins and broken thread, Hastion picked a perfect ringlet from his back, curling it around his finger almost reverently. He buried his nose in Galengar’s hair and breathed in his smell. Right, Galengar always forgot about elves and hair. It was like the punchline of an unfunny joke.

That Gods-forsaken hand finally started moving, trailing up painfully slow between his folds as Hastion pressed Galengar down onto his desk, crumpling the papers. Strong, calloused fingers teased his clit with light circles, barely touching him. Gritting his teeth, Galengar held still, giving an exaggerated grimace of frustration to Hastion in the window.

“Is that so?” He all but purred into Galengar’s ear. “Why don’t I try something else, then.”

The hand withdrew, but, before Galengar could complain, strong arms lifted him, hoisting him into the air. Kicking his pants and underwear off, Galengar wrapped his legs around Hastion’s waist, the other man’s hands supporting him and fondling his ass at the same time. Multitasking, how efficient. He should give a commendation to his superior officer.

Lips were on his as he was carried, Hastion kissing him deeply enough to make Galengar forget about whatever had been bothering him. Gods, he loved this, how strong Hastion was. His back met the wall, shirt riding up slightly when Hastion adjusted his position. One hand left Galengar’s skin as Hastion stripped out of his pants.

As he stroked himself to hardness, Hastion broke the kiss, pressing a quick peck to the tip of Galengar’s ear. “Where do you want me, Sir?” His eyes darkened as he said it. Who  _ wouldn’t _ want to fuck the king, especially when he was young and ditzy.

‘I don’t care.’ He signed, letting his hand run through Hastion’s hair as he finished his sentence.

“Alright, Sir.”

That was all the warning Galengar got as a cock pushed into him, Hastion bending closer and groaning into Galengar’s shoulder. Fullness was good. Gods, yes, this was what Galengar needed. Fuck the kingdom, all Galengar wanted to do was be fucked into a wall until he was just gasping and twitching and incomprehensible. The kingdom could go on without him, it wasn’t like Malaidor  _ needed _ him and—

Hastion set a pace that was almost torturously slow, ignoring the way Galengar tried to sign at him for more. He wasn’t looking at him. Fucking Gods. Fucking Kuriev, if he really wanted to invoke the God of Relations. Taps to Hastion’s shoulder got his attention. He stopped, pulling away enough for Galengar to sign, concerned, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his hips.

‘Go faster.’

The lopsided grin that spread over Hastion’s face was unfairly adorable. “You gave me a heart attack so that you could complain about the pace?”

‘Yes. I won’t break.’ Galengar crossed his arms.

“I’m sure you won’t, Sir.” He nuzzled into his neck, pressing closed-mouth kisses against the soft skin behind his ear. “I just want to take care of you.”

Galengar’s ear twitched sharply with annoyance, and Hastion pulled back. ‘I don’t want to be taken care of.’

With a sigh and a suppressed smile, Hastion pretended to consider it. “Then would you like the slick from the alchemist’s, Sir? The one you purchased two weeks ago?”

That would be quite nice, actually. ‘And here I thought I had been given privacy as to my shopping habits.’

“I only worry about the wellbeing of my king.” Hands squeezed his ass. “Though I am left wanting for an answer.”

With a roll of his eyes and a nod, Galengar tried not to let Hastion’s smile get to him. He would be doing this for anyone. It didn’t matter who Galengar  _ was _ , it was just because he was king, because Hastion wanted him to relax, because Hastion wanted to be able to brag. How many people had stuck their dicks in the king? He didn’t want to think about the number.

The nightstand next to them was too far away for Hastion to reach from his current position, so, slipping out of Galengar, he brought the king along with him. Slumped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Galengar couldn’t help but let his mind wander as his guard rustled around in the drawers for the slick.

His room was everything expected of a king, large and luxurious and hardly lived in. The desk at the window, to the right of the bed, was the only thing that looked like someone had actually used it, what with its stains and chips and disarray of papers. No, everything else was as sterile as the day it was given to him, canopy bed perfectly made, pale green walls barren of any decoration. The carpets and upholstered furniture looked like no one had touched them since they were made.

As he was pinned to the wall again, Hastion clumsily opened the jar and placed it on Galengar’s stomach, mindful not to get any on his shirt. It was an awkward position, but that didn’t matter as Hastion dipped his fingers in the lube and pressed two into Galengar, thrusting them in and out slowly, letting the lube thoroughly coat his insides.

This was the good mixture, from a very expensive alchemist. It felt like every nerve in Galengar’s body lit up, standing on end, desperate to feel pleasure. He gasped at the sensation, biting his lip as his back arched ever so slightly. Hastion laughed as he withdrew his fingers, using the remaining lube to slick himself up. The jar was put onto the closest flat surface, its lid thrown over it, unclosed.

Wiping his hand on Galengar’s leg, Hastion pressed into him again. “Faster, you wanted it, right, Sir?”

He nodded, tight around Hastion’s dick. Gods and men and whatever that third part of the oath was that he always forgot, this was what felt right, not being talked over in meeting with the nobles, not struggling to make sense of numbers, not worrying about war.

It was when Hastion truly began moving in earnest that Galengar allowed himself to let go of the world and his responsibilities. The lubricant heightened everything and, as Hastion pounded into him roughly, Galengar’s breath hitched and he wrapped his legs around his guard tighter. Hastion groaned praises at him, how beautiful Galengar was, how well he took his dick, how fair his hair was, his skin was, his eyes were.

He pulled Hastion into a kiss to shut him up. Galengar didn’t need to know how he looked, he needed to have his guard fuck his brains out. Running his hands through Hastion’s hair had the man blushing hard, rocking his hips faster. He dug his nails in, close, so close. More pressing their mouths together than kissing, Galengar tightened his fists against Hastion’s scalp. As Hastion moaned loudly into his skin, Galengar’s muscles tensed up as his orgasm broke over him.

Hastion stilled in him and an icy vein of fear lanced through the floating feeling that had enveloped him. Galengar’s body braced itself in anticipation. He hadn’t felt Hastion cum, but people didn’t just stop for no reason. Any second now, he was going to get dropped, feel the churn of freefall, the starburst of pain on his lower back.

“Are you okay?” Hastion asked, like Galenger’s heart wasn’t going a mile a minute, head filled with memory upon memory. “Sir?”

A blink and a flinch later, Galengar shook his head, trying to clear it. No success.

‘I’m fine,’ he lied, trying to hide just how much he was shaking, ‘I always forget how much the damned enchantment messes with my head.’ And how much sex messes with his head.

“I could call the medic, if you’d like, I can have the tin disenchanted?” So polite, so courteous, even with his cock fully hard against Galengar’s ass.

Right, he needed to deal with that. ‘Really, it’s fine. Why don’t you set me down and let me take care of you?’

“O-oh, um,” Hastion blushed, turning his head to the side, examining such fascinating things as the wall and the door, “you’re under no obligation to do anything, Sir.”

Gripping his chin with his hand, Galengar gently turned Hastion’s head to look at him. The man’s blush deepened, whatever words he was going to say drying up under Galengar’s dark-grey gaze.

‘You can’t tell what I’m saying if you aren’t looking at me.’ Galengar mouthed, and Hastion trapped his lips in his, scooping him up from the wall and turning, gently easing Galengar to the floor.

Gods, his legs trembled like a newborn deivalger, six paws shaking against the force of gravity, trying to hold up the weight above them. As Hastion broke the kiss to murmur something no doubt romantic, Galengar let himself sink to his knees in front of him, head resting on his thigh. Hastion bit his lip, breath catching at the sight before him. Internally, Galengar laughed. His king, on his knees, perfectly willing to suck his dick, still slick with his fluids. So many people’s wet dreams, becoming a reality.

“You, ah, you don’t have to…” If Hastion turned any redder, Galengar was going to call for a medic.

‘I want to.’ He didn’t want to be selfish.

A sick feeling slid its way down Galengar’s throat, and he replaced it with Hastion’s cock, nuzzling the junction of his thighs and pressing kisses up the shaft. He could taste himself on it, and the lubricant too. A staticky buzz spread over his lips, the aftereffects of the enchantment. Galengar let himself get lost in the sensation, in the rote, scripted actions that he was doing.

Taking the head of Hastion’s dick in his mouth, Galengar was rewarded with a breathy moan and a hand in his hair. Right, more. As Galengar let himself be guided by gentle, barely-there motions that Hastion probably wasn’t aware he was doing, he let himself fall away. There were going to be tensions with the Solaq—no. He needed to take a break from that. The Orcic council of elders—something else. Something sexy.  _ Something _ .

_ Galengar was younger, the smile still came easy to his lips and he would follow a crooked finger without a second thought from getting off. He wasn’t himself yet, that was still a danger. He had been pawned off to the crownsguard and stationed at the palace. It was there that he had been able to convince them that there was an error with his paperwork, that the gender marker hadn’t translated from Ilvoni well. The doctor didn’t believe him until Galengar got on his knees and— _

_ He was pretty, in an imperfect way. Nobles and dignitaries liked him, liked when he was their guard. They liked how quiet he was, how his silver tongue was something to be felt, rather than heard. The safest assignments were the ones he was requested, the ones he got by crouching under skirts and looking up at men with their release on his— _

As if guided by something else, Galengar released Hastion’s dick with an obscene plop just as he was about to lose control. He dimly heard his moans and felt the hands on his scalp, eyes unfocused, staring at Hastion without seeing anything at all. He wrapped his hand around Hastion’s cock, matching the pace he had been going at, the pace he didn’t remember setting. Time slowed and it was like Galengar was watching everything happen from a few feet away.

The world flung itself back to normal speed as cum splattered on Galengar’s face. He blinked numbly, lowering his hand into his lap so that no one could see how much it was shaking. He felt so tired, so empty. Hastion was talking, probably asking questions and apologizing profusely, but his fingers felt so heavy, the words gone from his mind. There was music in his ears, an old song that he had spent his teenage years forgetting.

“Are you alright? Sir?” A hand shook his shoulder, and Galengar let himself move with it.

Strong arms lifted him, depositing him on the bed with care. Looks like he wasn’t earning this position back. Maybe the next noble—

“Why, um, why don’t we get you cleaned up, right?”

A damp washcloth was passed between Galengar’s legs. Fine, another round, this was another who liked it when he laid there, limp, pretending to sleep. At least he wasn’t going to be drugged for this one. Another cloth cleaned his face, and he shut his eyes obediently. Right. Sleeping. He was sleeping. He wasn’t here. The ache in his hips wasn’t real.

“I, um, I’m going to get the Queen, alright?” A blanket was hesitantly pulled over his lower half. “Just… um… yes. I’ll return quickly.”

The door closing was the last sound Galengar heard before the numbness overtook him. He was cold, so cold, but it wasn’t  _ his _ body that was cold. That was silly. Galengar wasn’t there, wasn’t in that body that had tried to twist itself into something that felt marginally right. Every breath made him nauseous, so his brain stumbled through the sounds of a prayer to Kathamun. May the Goddess protect something like him, something rejected, something cast out.

His chest hurt— _ his chest hurt. His chest always hurt nowadays. It was the contraption he wore, a tight fabric that laced on the sides like a corset. It flattened his chest out, but no one could see him in it, no, of course not. He wasn’t being sent to Reikyani. People didn’t come back from Reikyani. Their forms did, sure, but their minds, their minds were something different, beaten into a shape that the kingdom wanted. A shape that Essren wanted. It was said that Reikyani graduates were the best to take to bed, so obedient, so courteous. _

_ His ribs ached and he hadn’t been able to catch his breath for hours. Wake in the corset, work in the corset, sleep in the corset. Galengar wanted to live. Galengar wanted to remain. He coughed again and again, trying to clear out anything that might have impeded his breathing to no avail, only giving him a suspicious glance from his coworkers. It was fine, not like they could speak to him anyway. _

_ A new posting, there was a new posting. Guarding a prisoner. He had a flawless record, he had made sure of that, so it was given to him to keep an important prisoner locked up. He might have been slow to learn things, but Galengar could recognize the dauphin of the kingdom when he saw her. She looked at him with serious eyes, flawless in every way, a serious expression etched into her face. _

_ It took her an hour to try sign, and another thirty minutes before he let her know that he wasn’t deaf but appreciated the effort. He had been tired, so tired. It was hard to sleep, knowing that one stray glance at the wrong body part would lead to a living death. She managed to talk him into breaking her out, into going to the Solaq, into marrying her— _

A hand was running through his hair, over and over. Someone was singing, a low lullaby, familiar. He was shivering, fingers interlaced with someone else’s.

_ “I wanted forests ‘stead of graveyards, I had nothing left to say. I have a soft spot for your flooded well of war-time stories.” _

He stirred, and the song broke, the hand in his tightening soothingly.

“Good evening.” His wife’s voice was calm and gentle.

‘Cold.’ Was all he could sign, like a selfish bastard.

The hand in his hair left, drawing a blanket up higher. It rested on his shoulder. “How are you feeling.”

Loaded question. Next one. ‘Hastion?’

“Outside, worried. He thinks he did something wrong.”

‘My fault—’

“Not your fault.” She interrupted, mid-sign. “This isn’t your fault.”

Something was different. What was different. ‘You’re touching me.’

“An astute observation. You needed it more than the discomfort it causes me.” She rubbed his shoulder through the blanket, as if to prove that point.

‘Wouldn’t call flashbacks and dissociation discomfort.’

The Queen hummed. “Says the man that just came back from them. Lie still, I’ll go tell Hastion that you’re alright.”

She rose, and Galengar immediately missed the warmth she brought to the bed. The door opened and a few words were exchanged. There was the sound of something being picked up and set down as the door closed, and Malaidor was back, slowly undoing the tangled mess that was his hair. They were silent as Malaidor straightened him out, picking at a bit of dried cum that Hastion had missed in his hairline.

“It’s not your fault.” Her words were quiet, just loud enough for Galengar to hear. “Just rest, for me.”

He just closed his eyes. Galengar was tired, so tired. With his closest friend’s ministrations fading into a pleasant background noise, Galengar drifted off, shivering slowly dying down and warmth making its first tentative forays into his core. It was okay. He was the king. He didn’t have anything to prove. It wasn’t his fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft and tender aint that bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might add more later, idk yet  
> comments and kudos greatly appreciated!

Galengar did not feel comfortable in this get-up. The jacket was so needlessly formal, beads and complex embroidery decorating the back, and his blouse had been given a similar treatment. His pants were formal and dignified, and his hair had been done up in a complex style. Whoever had selected the outfit for this occasion had also thought it necessary to stick him in the binding corset too, to flatten out his chest. Galengar didn’t look like himself, simply put. At the end of his day, Galengar was still wiping off the makeup and taking down his hair.

No, he wasn’t going to just sit there and become a stranger in his own mirror. There were scissors in the second drawer from the top. As if guided by something else, a version of himself that, deep down, knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to get it, Galengar opened it, holding the heavy iron blades in his hands. They were ridiculously ornate, little metal flowers decorating the handles. It was a bit ridiculous.

Gods, he looked so  _ tired _ , that was the thought consuming Galengar as he stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was so  _ long _ now, falling down his back. It made him look old, those dark-blond locks. Bits of it stuck up where he had pulled it against the product the stylist had put in it. Nope. It was going. Galengar hesitated as he opened the scissors and put a lock of hair in between the blades. Malaidor was going to kill him. Queen Malaidor. He still needed to correct himself after three years, didn’t he.

The door opened. Fuck.

“Oh, Sir, the Queen wanted to know if—what are you doing, Sir?” Hastion stopped in the middle of his sentence, papers in his hand.

Galengar froze. His hands weren’t free. He couldn’t speak. His guard just stood in the doorway, patiently waiting for an answer, setting the files down. Gods, Galengar always forgot how clean cut he looked out of his uniform, exchanging the pale yellows and dark blues for the browns and reds of his casual clothes. Malaidor must have caught him on his downtime with an inquiry as to where her husband was.

‘Nothing.’ Was what Galengar chose to mouth at him.

“Would you like some help, Sir?” There was a laugh in Hastion’s voice.

Galengar could feel a blush creep across his cheeks. ‘You don’t have to. It’s your free time.’

“Then as a friend. Can I help you as a friend?” Hastion approached slowly. “I used to cut my little sister’s hair all the time, I’d like to think that I still have that skill.” There was something in his voice, a deeply buried melancholy.

‘If you want, in that case. I wouldn’t want to force anything onto you.’ Thank anything that was listening that Galengar couldn’t speak. His hypothetical voice would surely have a stutter.

Hastion’s warm hand gently took the scissors from Galengar’s, a quiet chuckle sounding from the taller elf behind him. “In that case, consider yourself safe. How would you like it?”

The implications of  _ that _ statement. With his hands now free, Galengar signed. ‘Short. I just want it short.’

“How short, like this? This?” Hastion pinched Galengar’s hair between his index and middle finger, jumping up higher on the strand. When Galengar moved it close to his scalp, Hastion nodded. “Alright, no problem.”

With the first snip, a long lock of hair came off, Hastion catching it in his hands. He set it on the sink counter, like it wasn’t twenty years of Galengar’s life, gone in a single clip. Good. Slowly, a small smile crept across his face. In the mirror, he could see Hastion try to hide his grin, focusing on making sure the cuts were equal.

‘I wasn’t aware you have a sister.’ Galengar said, trying to interject some normalcy.

Hastion’s grin faltered, expression pained, bittersweet. He still tried to smile, aware of the eyes on him. “Had, Sir, past tense.”

‘Please don’t call me ‘Sir’ when you have those stupidly ornate scissors on my throat. Or off duty. I have a name.’

“Of course, S—Galengar.” It did things to Galengar’s stomach to hear Hastion say his name.

Swallowing that feeling, Galengar glanced up. ‘You don’t have to answer if this is a sensitive topic or you don’t want to, but did something happen to your sister?’

Hastion sighed. “She was at Reikyani.” Oh. “I don’t know where she is now, or if she’s still alive, or if she’s still  _ she _ .”

‘I could find her if you want.’ The words were off of Galenger’s hands before he could stop himself.

The scissors stopped at the nape of his neck. Okay. Galengar wasn’t going to think about how easily he could be assassinated right now. “I’ve been trying.”

His hands shook as he spoke, the words eager to be formed. ‘I’ve been working on tracing people from Reikyani and reuniting them with loved ones. I know people and I can look for her, I—’ He silenced himself, making tight fists before continuing like it would help at all. ‘I might’ve met her.’

“You were in Reikyani?” Hastion’s voice was a shocked whisper.

‘Only a month. It doesn’t count. The V-B got me out.’

The scissors got to moving again, snipping away more and more hair. “I wasn’t aware that you served. I am sorry you had to go through that.”

Galengar suppressed a laugh. It was  _ ridiculous _ . ‘Oh, spare me. Life is life. Did you think that I was  _ nobility _ ?’

“I had assumed such. This is alright, yes? Before I do the parts around the face?”

It very much was, and Galengar indicated that, and Hastion continued with his cuts.

‘Hastion,’ he did  _ not _ use the nickname sign that he and Malaidor had come up with. It would’ve been embarrassing, ‘you  _ are _ aware that I’m a nobody from the Northwest Territories that decided to lead a coup with the dauphin. We  _ met _ when I was guarding her for her execution and thought ‘fuck this’ and deserted.’

“You were a  _ guard _ ?”

Galengar blinked. ‘Gods be damned, Malaidor did a  _ good _ job burying our records. Yes, I was a guard for five years.’

He could see Hastion’s brows drawing together, making connections. “I… wasn’t aware of that…”

‘So, suffice to say, yes, I can try to find your sister if you’d like.’ Galengar tried to gather all the hair up into a pile that wasn’t threatening to spill all over the floor. ‘You could make a homunculus with all of this material, Gods and men.’

Hastion laughed at that. “The king, and his assistant, a second, smaller king. He only sheds a wee bit.”

His shoulders shook with silent laughter, a grin plain on Galengar’s face. ‘When can he start? I’d  _ love _ for him to take over figuring out which of the noble families aren’t paying their taxes properly. The books aren’t balancing, and I  _ know _ it’s not the palace’s fault.’

“The Kiadrios family.” Hastion said simply. “They were talking about it and assumed that I didn’t know how to read lips. They mentioned the tax rates and the patriarch declared that he was not going to pay more than two thousand flecks.”

Galengar drew his brows together. ‘Is he  _ shitting _ us?’

Covering a snort of laughter, Hastion tried to fight the smile that threatened to overtake his face. “I would say he is.”

‘Well, he still thinks I’m deaf and refuses to learn sign, but, if you’d like to accompany me and pretend to smile placidly while Malaidor tears into him, you’re more than welcome to come.’

“That  _ does _ sound rather fun.” The last bit of hair was cut. “Right, how does that look, then.”

Great. Amazing. Incredible. Freeing. Running his hand through the shorn locks, it felt like a literal weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Galengar’s ears twitched up in happiness without much input from him, lips creeping up into a goofy grin. It was good to have some  _ say _ in how he looked, to change.

‘It’s good.’ Is what he said. ‘I like it very much.’

“If your wife kills me…” Hastion said jokingly.

‘I shall bring you right back.’ Galengar promised. A pang of guilt passed through him ‘I don’t mean to keep you from your life, by the way. You’re more than welcome to leave, if you want.’

Hastion hummed. “I’m aware. May I?”

Nodding, Galengar didn’t know what he was agreeing to. When Hastion carded his hands through Galengar’s hair, he understood why some elves had a thing for hair. It felt like Hastion’s fingers were trailing sparks across his scalp. As one hand slipped down to curl around his waist, he felt his blush creep lower down his neck. Hastion leaned into him, resting his chin on his head.

“You’re so tense. If I may say so.” He mused, hands moving to rest on Galengar’s shoulders, thumbs making a few exploratory circles. “I can help with that, if you’d like.”

A million thoughts flashed through Galengar’s head. This was how he died, he was sure of it. This was how Hastion drove an emotional stake through his heart and Galengar became a puppet king. Gain his trust with kind touch, and then control him with a firmer one, it was simple. Galengar might’ve been new to being king, but he wasn’t a complete and utter fool. A reign of three years and eight months was not nearly enough to ingratiate himself with the people and remove Essren’s supporters.

Hastion paused, giving Galengar a look in the mirror. “Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?”

Galengar’s left shoulder itched, magic humming under his skin. He could feel the arcane golden ink awaken, wanting to be used. ‘Who are you, really.’ His fingers moved in quick shapes, feeling heat as his emotions fed the magic tattooed onto him.

“Hastion Erro’ar?” He sounded confused, dark brown brows drawing together. “From the house of Erro’ar? My father was a cobbler and my mother a butcher?”

‘What did you do before you came here?’

Hastion laughed nervously, glancing away. “Please don’t make fun of me, but I worked in the entertainment sector.”

That didn’t answer any questions. ‘Why do you always smell like magic?’

As if understanding, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a burnished bronze disk with the tiniest of runes carved into it. “Oh, they just give the senior guards these pendants to improve response time and senses and—you can smell magic?”

‘It’s a trick you learn around fae, when did we start doing that?’

“Six? Six months ago? I’m not too sure. I’ve found it—fae?”

‘Long story, longer explanation.’

Hastion sighed, giving Galengar’s shoulders a squeeze. “May I ask what I did wrong?”

Chewing on his lip, Galengar’s words were precise and exacting. ‘In times like these, you can’t be sure who one can trust.’

He blinked slowly at him through the reflection. “I am your personal guard. I have been for a year and a half now. I don’t mean to be rude, but if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t do it in your  _ bathroom _ when I came here  _ specifically _ to speak with you and was sent by your wife.”

‘I was worried less about murder and more about manipulation.’ Galengar shoved his hands down, cracking his knuckles like he needed something to do, staring at the floor.

Hastion laughed a dumbstruck laugh at that, disbelieving. “You think  _ I _ , me, am going to manipulate you? I—I applied to be a palace guard because it  _ paid _ well and had housing, and I was selected to guard you because I had a clean record and did my job. Galengar, I have a  _ crush _ on you, I don’t want to take the throne from you.” There was genuine astonish—crush.

‘You have a crush on me?’

It was Hastion’s turn to look away and blush, taking a step back and folding his arms. Galengar’s skin felt cold where he had been touching him. “I was just going to keep it professional and not act on it, but yes. I do.”

Turning in the small space, Galengar looked up at him. ‘I never said it was a  _ bad _ thing.’ He reached a hesitant hand out, stopping before touching Hastion’s face.

“For a king,” Hastion let a smile slip across his face, “you are awfully shy.” He placed his chin into Galengar’s hand, and the king’s heart stuttered. Maybe his guard wasn’t the only one with a crush.

‘I just wouldn’t want to overstep.’ Galengar replied as Hastion placed his hand over the one now on his cheek. ‘I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’

“You aren’t, and you won’t.” He promised, biting his lip slightly. “I think we’ve had sex too many times for that.”

A not unpleasant shiver ran down Galengar’s spine. ‘In that case, why don’t we move to the other room. I can clean up the hair later.’

“You are truly the wisest king.” Hastion laughed, letting himself be led to the bedchamber by the hand.

He wanted Galengar to take the lead, it seemed, and so, Galengar did. Wait. What if Galengar was overstepping by guiding him to the bed. What if he’d gotten this wrong. What if Hastion had thought he was bad in bed all those times. With a few glances and social calculations in his mind, Galengar paused, trying to slow his heartbeat. Hastion took that as initiative to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder.

Blushing, Galengar quietly signed ‘strong’ to himself.

“Is the bed still alright?” He asked, and Galengar nodded.

He set him down on the soft surface, and Galengar closed the translucent canopy. As Hastion faced him, Galengar reached out with tentative hands, taking the pendant off of him. The sting of magic in his nose would bother him to no end, that sharp ozone scent disrupting his thoughts. Hastion let him, and, as Galengar set it on the nightstand, he looked  _ tired _ .

‘Are you alright?’ Galengar checked him for a fever, finding nothing but the normal body temperature.

Hastion chuckled. “I’m fine, the pendants also give us some boosts to endurance and stamina.”

‘So…’

He winced. “I haven’t slept in thirty-nine hours. I’m fine though, really. I can go a few days!”

Galengar blinked at him like he was insane.

“Oh, it’s not too bad, really. May we please continue, if you’d like, of course.” Well, Hastion was his own person and Galengar was going to request a new mandate that guards sleep at least once a day.

Pulling him in for a kiss, Hastion smiled against his mouth, letting Galengar press their lips together. As his king eased him into his lap, hand on the small of his guard’s back, Hastion looped his arms around his neck, trailing his fingers lightly down Galengar’s back. Gods, his lips were so soft, that was the only thought in Galengar’s head. Hastion sighed into him, like he had been waiting for this for so long, actually letting his feelings be known.

Galengar pulled back, hands rubbing little circles in Hastion’s back. With an inquisitive glance, Hastion nuzzled into the crook of Galengar’s neck, pressing little kisses into the skin there. It was maddening in all the right ways, and, as Galengar twisted slightly to grab a condom from his nightstand, Hastion rested his head on Galengar’s shoulder. It took him a few seconds to fish one out, and, as he faced Hastion again, his guard still had his eyes closed on his shoulder, his breathing slow and steady. Oh. Fuck. Okay.

Laying him down in the bed gently, Galengar chewed on the knuckle of his index finger. Okay. Malaidor. His wife knew things. She was smart. Or he could sleep. Sleep was always an option. If Hastion was sleeping, then Galengar could, too. Right? That was probably allowed. It wasn’t like Galengar was much better than him, working through the night.

The siren song of actually getting a few hours of rest tonight sang him into laying down, pulling the covers up over the both of them. Fuck it. If he could sleep next to fae and not worry too much about them gleaning something valuable from his dreams, then Galengar could sleep next to his Gods-damned Elven guard. That was how he drifted off, listening to Hastion’s relaxed breathing at his side.

He proceeded to be woken up when the door opened, sunlight spilling into the room. Squinting in the light, Galengar felt a heavy warmth at his side. As Malaidor’s voice resolved itself in his mind, he glanced down, being greeted with the image of Hastion curling up around him, still asleep. His face was peaceful, dark hair framing it like a halo.

“Why do you have your thingie down?” Malaidor lifted the curtain around his bed, comfortable enough with him that she let her tone have the hint of emotion in it, something that they had worked on while they were on the run, only to behold the sight before her.

‘I can explain.’ Galengar signed before she could say anything.

She just looked at him, bringing her hands up to keep from waking Hastion. ‘Your hair.’

With a wince, Galengar started a few signs before dropping them. ‘It was getting too long.’

‘It’s not bad, just a surprise. Cute bedmate.’

‘I hate you so much.’ Galengar said lovingly. ‘Did you know that the guards are getting magic pendants that make them not sleep?’

She nodded, dragging over a chair as quietly as possible so she could sit. ‘Tai’Arch thought it would be good, so we made it an optional program.’

‘They need to sleep, Mor.’

It was her turn to wince. ‘I’m aware of that issue. If you’d like to speak with Tai’Arch, be my guest. He never listens to my opinion.’

‘Will do.’ Gods, there was something else he wanted to tell Malaidor. What—oh! Right!

Galengar jerked up as he remembered, dislodging Hastion. Getting up with a groan, the guard propped himself up on his elbows, hair falling into his face. Galengar’s arm still held him, shifting down to get a more comfortable hold on Hastion’s waist. With a squint at Malaidor, he stifled a yawn.

“Am I getting executed?” His voice was still rough from sleep, and it did things to Galengar, catching in his chest and drifting downwards.

Malaidor glanced at him like she was trying to determine the joke. “No…” Her answer was tentative, like she was expecting Galengar to chime in with a punchline.

“Great. In that case, I’m going back to sleep.” He lowered himself and rolled over, the entire length of his back pressed against Galengar’s side. “My King, if you’d like to move your hand.”

His hand? Oh.  _ Oh. _ His hand had drifted down to hover at the waistband of Hastion’s pants. Galengar quickly retracted it, feeling his cheeks burn up. How Hastion could just slip back into sleep so quickly was enviable. Malaidor was just watching them, trying to hide the amusement in her eyes.

“So, what did you want to tell me?”

‘Can I watch while you chew out the Kiadrioses?’

She raised an eyebrow. “And why would I chew out the Kiadrioses?”

‘They’ve been skimping their taxes.’

Malaidor’s face changed in an instant, faint amusement becoming predatory. “I suppose today is as good a time to try out some exercises my therapist gave me. Can you be ready in an hour and meet me in my chambers?”

Oh yes. Galengar was more than excited as he sat up, Hastion groaning at the cold air, commenting that he might as well get on shift. His wife was going to have a fun morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a tumblr! @timeslive-inhouse! shoot me a message!

**Author's Note:**

> a bonus scene from the Aconite trilogy, this takes place ~12 years in the past from that series.  
> ty for reading!


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